Tagged: Wrigley Field

Jeff tries his darnedest to be as polite as possible during his unfettered gloating of World Championship status (Go Cards!) while Second City’s Mark Piebenga adds some level-headed awesomeness to Johanna’s outlandishness and Allen’s seasoned straight man routine. Among the topics of discussion are “the greatest game ever”, the woes of rebranding an already twice championed franchise (talkin’ to you, Marlins), Theo Fever in the Chi, b!tch t!ts and much, much more!

I’ve been harvesting my organs to get the perfect GM. I’ve been licking my cat’s fanny to find the best. I’ve been on a Rambo-style manhunt to make sure the Cubs can be good for an extended amount of time.

I’VE EVEN TRIED HUMAN MEAT!!! (That part is almost true.)

Theo is the smartest thing that has ever happened to the Cubs.

At the press conference yesterday, he said “I promised I wouldn’t bring up the Red Sox,” but it’s ok, Theo. You said the right things at the right moments. You talked about “being on base and defense.” CRAZY! I am over the moon, trying to slow my roll, but you, Theo, are everything I’ve ever wanted: smart, savvy and new!

In my lifetime, being awful has been the Cub paradigm. Things have to change now. We might need a Castro coach to show him… defense. The way Wrigley plays may require some of Theo’s number crunching. But we have more hope now than we’ve had the last 15 years combined. (See Baker, Piniella, et al)

But best of all, as I write this, Theo Epstein is hatching a plan to dismantle every last bit of crap left in the C’s organization.

Some have described my baseball fanaticism as sociopathic in that I find great delight in the destruction and demise of my rivals.

Yeah? So?

That’s why I’m super excited to hear the Cubs rumor-mill sound off on a possible Billy Beane signing as the next Northside GM. Like a sick unempathetic psychopath, I enjoy watching the Cubs die a long, painful death. So bring on the Beane!

The notion that Beane is this magical franchise-saving GM is nothing short of a mirage. If you pick through the mountains of excellent work at PoNY you will find plenty of detailed examples why. But for now, I will just focus on one: during his tenure in Oakland (1998 to present) he hasn’t won anything. And if you’ve paid attention to the Oakland A’s the last five years you’ve probably noticed that those teams have been ATROCIOUS.

Yes, going back some years the A’s captured the AL West Division title four times (2000, 2002, 2003, 2006). But since when does being the best out of four teams and nothing else get you all the accolades of a champion? The dude is a flop! His teams are flops! And his club has no fans! Wait til he has to deal with an angry mob of 40,000 Chicagoans in that dump of a stadium as it shakes back and forth, falling apart!

So, you know what to do, Ricketts… bring on the BEANE! We Cardinal fans are lickin’ our chops!

“My band of soaks. My den of dissolutes. They don’t hear the little ones crying!”

This is my Cubs musical set to the music of Les Miserables!

Tom Ricketts:“Have you seen how the foreman is fuming today? With his terrible breath and his wandering hands.”

Ricketts said everything’s fine and we have Reed Johnson so we’re good.

“Why won’t daddy give me more money to waste on this crap?!” At the beginning of this, Daddy Ricketts said Tom’s allowance was sealed and he wanted no part of this purchase so “you’re on your own kid.”

He can’t get a vote of confidence from Ricketts and he shouldn’t get one. He hasn’t won anything as the general manager. He has spent a ton of unnecessary money that the Cubs don’t even have. Yet somehow, everyone who meets the guy loves him. But this time, it’s over. OVER.

Mike Quade:“How can I ever face my fellow men? How can I ever face myself again?”

Oh Mike… I believed in you, I really did. You waited your whole life for this. But my lord did you just make a fool of yourself over and over again. Your press conferences were the stuff of legend in folly for anyone covering the team. Your best “locker room” guys even called you out. But I wish you well. Bon voyage on your next gig as the lovable yet moronic bench coach who always begs the question “whaaaaa happpenedddd?”

Wrigley Field:“Do you hear the people sing? Singing a song of angry men? It is the music of a peopleWho will not be slaves again!”

I’m Wrigley and I’ve had enough. Put me to sleep and move this sorry @$$ team to the suburbs and let me go gracefully into the good night as a music venue and historical landmark for a team that did nothing but make people cry over the last 100 years.

Alfonso Soriano:“Master of the house, doling out the charm, ready with a handshake and an open palm!”

Yea. Kinda. The master does dole out the charm and his open palm is FULL OF MILLIONS AND MILLIONS OF DOLLARS.

Why should we hate him? It’s not his fault Jim Hendry is DENSE BEYOND HUMAN RECOGNITION. He gets blamed for far too much. He got old. Ok? If he was scouted better by the Cubs they would have seen he couldn’t be a 30/30 guy anymore.

And alas, our old friend…

Carlos Zambrano:“Crying at all is not allowed. Not in my castle on a cloud.”

You’re right, Z. Crying is not allowed. Stop being a horrible jackass who apologizes two days late. Embrace the fact that you are a gigantic male member and own it.

After Jeff and Allen dragged Johanna’s almost lifeless body out of the Lollapalooza bullpen, the RSBS crew sat down to smack down on all-things baseball. Joined midway by special guest, Tim Baffoe of The Heckler and AM 670 The Score, everybody gets in on the roller coaster that is Chicago baseball, Tony LaRussa versus the World, Derek Jeter’s legacy and a hypothetical question involving the conflicting theologies of Ian Kinsler and Josh Hamilton.

Juan Pierre has statistically climbed up to almost above water! His WARP is back to 1.0! He’s been doin it to the baseball world, wackin em in the nuts and tellin em to “say hello to your mom for me.” Just two weeks ago I sat here and made the case that he’s the worst player in baseball and he has responded tenfold.

*EATING A GORDITA FULL OF CROW RIGHT NOW*

Unlike Roy Halladay, who turned into a melty pile of goo in this Chicago heat, JP has been full tilt boogie-smackin the ball around and willed the Sox back into contention. The White Sox can turn it around. I BELIEVE THIS. Jeff has missed JP’s musk but it’s back. Until further notice the Cubs are off Jo Jo’s radar so its south side excitement for me here on out. When I’m at Wrigley these days I turn into Hedley Lamarr and scream out “drive me off this picture!!”

Meanwhile, Mike Quade is weird and is currently writing his farewell memoir on how to effectively lose your first managerial job after just one season. He’s driving the already sucky Cubs off into the grand canyon of craptitude. The last time I saw him he was rolling down a hill, muttering something to himself.

The greatest contribution Quade can give the Cubs is to not die in the dugout.

In my scary hypothetical world, I have always been unjust in the notion that going to a White Sox game feels a lot like hanging out with the children of the corn. That’s not fair. It’s a great park and the food blows away anything you’ll find at Wrigley.

The Cubs announced the first Wrigleyville Block Party will be held Friday to Sunday on the west side of the ballpark during the Yankees series. The event is free and features bands, food and drink booths and “interactive” entertainment for families.

Oh, really?

Folks, let me be blunt. Unless clogged streets of drunken youths and bands of impatient motorists with horn-happy hands represent the ideal, outside of hosting an actual baseball game, there is very little family-friendly about Wrigleyville. Remember, this the same Wrigleyville where I was assaulted by a blabbering drunk because I was… *gasp*… wearing a pink shirt.

So, curious as to what sort of block party events the Cubs front office planned for the neighborhood, the RSBS interns were sent out on an important reconnaissance mission, and this is what they found:

Pin the Tail on Rats Big as Pigs
In this fun event, lucky participants are encouraged to hunt down Wrigley rats. What they catch, they can keep. Extra points are rewarded for doing it while talking in an exaggerated Ozzie Guillen accent (“rats as beeeg as peeegs”).

The Racist Frozen T-Shirt Game
Pay $10 and you can compete against your peers to see who can put the frozen “Horry Kow” t-shirt the fastest. If anti-Asian ain’t your style, try the “Pujols Mows My Lawn” tee! Fun for the whole family!

Annoying Fan Photo Op
Fork over $25 and you can choose to have your picture taken with world famous Cubs fans Rod Blagojevich, Denise Richards or… Ronnie Woo Woo! Then again, you can also take that $25 and burn it; it’s essentially the same thing.

The Drink Overpriced Horse P!ss Booth
At this funfest, you can drink $7 Old Styles until you a) get sick b) go broke or c) start rooting for the Cardinals!

And finally… the most exciting event of them all…

The Write a Bad Contract Raffle
Participants empty their bank accounts and hand everything over to Jim Hendry, who will then do what he does best: waste money on bad baseball players.

It’s a good thing the Yankees are in town, otherwise Wrigleyville would be a complete mess.